


In Daybreak's Light

by tifmes



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 22:16:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15422769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tifmes/pseuds/tifmes
Summary: Here, resting trustingly on Ling’s shoulder, Ed is not the youngest ex-State Alchemist, savior of the world, the Fullmetal Alchemist: he’s just Ed, older brother, short-tempered goof, one of Ling’s best and closest friends.





	In Daybreak's Light

**Author's Note:**

> pointless drabble to get some edling feelings out

Ling’s not really a morning person. That hasn’t meant much in the long run, since, as a prince and now as emperor, there were plenty of things that required his best attempt at bushy-tailed attention at the ass crack of dawn. And despite what certain people may say to the contrary, Ling does have a measure of self-discipline (mostly cultivated to avoid Lan Fan’s crushingly disappointed stare whenever he so much as thinks about playing hooky). 

Still, Ling thought as he groggily cracked his eyes open. Having his internal clock set to wake him at 6 a.m. sharp every morning was a real pain, especially when it still woke him up on his off days. To make things worse, it meant he was always awake before Ed, who refused to budge a second before 11 a.m. (10 a.m. if Ling was very, very lucky) now that he was no longer under the rigid schedule of military life.

With a hand against his eyes, Ling arched, sighing as his back cracked like it was breaking. Sitting on the throne all week really did a number on his spine, which wasn’t one of the things Ling had expected to find unpleasant about being emperor. It didn’t quite compare to having a philosopher’s stone of thousands of suffering souls and one (1) annoying personification of avarice itself forcibly injected into his body, but it still hurt like a bitch. He could make use of the royal masseuse (and did), but he tried to avoid it if he could ever since the time Ed had almost killed the poor man when a hand had apparently strayed too close to Ling’s intimate parts for Ed’s liking. He had tried to reason with Ed (“He’s like three times my age, Ed. Also, why were you even there in the first place?” “Because you obviously can’t be trusted to go to these things alone, you dick! What fucking reason does he have to massage your ass??” “I SIT on it, Ed. A sore ass that isn’t even from a night of fun is just annoying!”), but it had only made Ed double down on his claim that he had only been protecting Ling’s virtue, and was not jealous whatsoever, asshole.

So Ling doesn’t go to the masseuse much anymore. It really isn’t that much of a loss though, because if he wheedles hard enough, he can get Ed to reluctantly give him a massage instead. And even if Ed’s fumbling hands haven’t been trained in expertly manipulating the flows of energy in the human body, it all works in favor of Ling’s on-going mission to have Ed’s hands on him as much as possible, which is more than fine with Ling.

He slumped back into the mattress with a thump. Half-lidded eyes staring distastefully at the ceiling, he considered trying to go back to sleep again. He knew somewhere deep inside himself that it was a fruitless endeavor, but the warm hold of the bed was doing work in convincing him otherwise. His eyes were already drooping when the blankets next to him rustled.

Just the top of a sleep-mussed blonde head poked out from under the sheets. Ling watched with soft eyes as the head shuffled a bit, then still as its owner gave a sigh. He resisted the urge to pull the sheets down just enough to see Ed’s face; Ling couldn’t help it if he found his-partner? Boyfriend?-unfairly precious during sleep. His ever-present frown smoothed out completely, and his untied hair framed his face in gentle waves, leaving him looking as close to sweet as Edward Elric ever came. It was a shame that Ling could never tell him as much outright without losing a limb or two. The best he could do was convey his thoughts with a gentle kiss, a reverent hand, a wondering smile or two, and hope that Ed wouldn’t be so embarrassed by his non-verbal declarations of love. Maybe it was all for the better, anyhow. Even if he (along with the majority of the human population) was better at it than Ed, using his words wasn’t particularly Ling’s strong suit either. It had made for a fraught love confession, where Ed had been physically incapable of speaking in anything other than alchemical metaphors and Ling had somehow misplaced his entire vocabulary save for various intonations of “huh?”

Ling starts from his thoughts as Ed shifts again next to him, a faint whine coming from his throat as he shuffles closer to Ling, the whine transforming into a pleased hum as Ling cautiously wraps an arm around his waist. He can only watch as Ed nuzzles into him once more, ensuring that he is fully plastered to Ling’s side, before settling. His face is still soft, relaxed in a way it almost never is while awake. In almost a daze, he feels his hand stroke through long hair, hyperaware of the gentle rise and fall of his boyfriend’s breathing and the counter rhythm of his own. He realizes that he’s taking shallow breaths, as if breathing too deeply would break the gentle quiet that’s bubbled around them, mirroring the soft pressure that’s expanding in his chest, sweetly aching, and has to swallow against a lump in his throat. They’re older now, and even Ed’s face has lost most of the baby fat that had clung stubbornly to his face well into late teenagerdom, but there’s still a gentleness to his face in sleep that Ling can’t help but trace with his eyes. Here, resting trustingly on Ling’s shoulder, Ed is not the youngest ex-State Alchemist, savior of the world, the Fullmetal Alchemist: he’s just Ed, older brother, short-tempered goof, one of Ling’s best and closest friends. They both lost their boyhoods long ago, even before voices deepened and bodies matured, but somehow they managed to find a shadow of them in stolen moments like this one, where Ling is not an emperor and Ed doesn’t carry the weight of too much loss.

Ling is so distracted, caught up in the almost overwhelming feeling sitting in his chest and crawling up his throat, that he almost doesn’t notice when one golden eye cracks open.

“Ling?” comes a sleep-clogged voice. Or at least, that’s what Ling thinks he said. Really it came out as more of a “Ng?”

“Hey, Ed.” Ling whispers. He can feel a fond smile creep across his face against his will.

“Hn?”

“It’s early. Go back to sleep, it’s fine.” Ling says, punctuating his sentence with a squeeze around Ed’s waist so gentle Ling’s not even sure he felt himself move. It seems to persuade Ed though, who hums contentedly and is immediately out again. He snores, and Ling suppresses an eye-roll as he pulls down Ed’s shirt where it rode up to expose his stomach.

“Can’t believe you still haven’t learned to cover your stomach while sleeping” Ling says under his breath, the ends of his mouth twitching up into a smile regardless.

Ling considers getting up now that he’s awake past the point of no return, but his bed is so comfortable, and besides, he thinks as he looks at Ed again, who is nestled into his side in sleep, unselfconsciously affectionate in a way he never quite is when awake, he doesn’t want to disturb Ed. He tucks back a lock of hair behind Ed’s ear. Ling’s still not a morning person, but maybe there are some perks to waking up early.


End file.
